


The Seer, the Serpent, and Spite

by Palaiolo



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Artoria is the chosen one but it’s really a MerGil story, Being Artoria is suffering but at least she has knights, HP AU, M/M, Merlin and Gil are chaotic professors, Solomon is the only one able to handle them and that is with marked disdain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palaiolo/pseuds/Palaiolo
Summary: The first years hadn’t even finished filing into the hall before the head of Gryffindor house shot up from his seat and screamed “Stupefy!” across the high table. Any doubts about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor who’d been employed seemingly out of nowhere—and couldn’t really be the famous, disappeared Merlin, could he?—were probably dispelled when he dove out of his chair and elegantly sent the latter’s wand flying into the pudding.Wedged in the confused huddle of first years, Artoria resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Caster/Merlin | Caster
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Filial Piety

The first years hadn’t even finished filing into the hall before the head of Gryffindor house shot up from his seat and screamed _“Stupefy!”_ across the high table. Any doubts about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor who’d been employed seemingly out of nowhere—and couldn’t _really_ be the famous, disappeared Merlin, could he?—were probably dispelled when he dove out of his chair and elegantly disarmed his assailant, sending the latter’s wand flying into the pudding.

Wedged in the confused huddle of first years, Artoria resisted the urge to hide her face in her hands, assuring herself that no one could know her relation to Merlin yet. She also guessed she knew who the very angry man in blindingly vibrant red and gold robes was.

Unexpectedly finding himself wandless, Gilgamesh roared and flew at Merlin with his fists instead, to collective amazement. Of the other residents of the high table, Waver Velvet alone calmly sipped his tea, even when Merlin's boot streaked past him, missing his pinky by inches. The man situated at the center of the high table, who must have been the headmaster, Solomon, sarcastically berated them but quickly gave up and settled for guarding the strawberry shortcake.

At some point Gilgamesh got his wand back, and they went at it, blowing everyone’s plates to pieces, until the apparently more responsible of the two, Merlin, managed to shout a suggestion that they take this quarrel elsewhere, at which point Gilgamesh chased him out of the Great Hall with multicolored explosions and _“How dare you leave me! You bastard, bastard, bastard!”_

After a moment, Solomon coughed awkwardly and offered, “Well, they’ll never learn to behave. Why don’t we start the main event?” 

A tickle on her leg told Artoria Fou had given up on Merlin and come to accompany her. She picked him up and let him hide in her robes, then allowed herself to zone out while the other students were sorted into Houses, her gaze floating up out of the crowds, past the chandeliers and multicolored banners, up to the enchanted ceiling, wheeling with stars, some constellations she thought she recognized from home, and—is that a ghost? She’d never seen a ghost before, and now, wondered, how someone might become one….

“Pendragon, Artoria.”

All of a sudden, the hall went silent. Brought back to earth, Artoria balled up her fists. Well, Merlin had warned her. The prickling of many eyes followed her as she made her way up to the Sorting Hat, feeling for the first time that she was far too small, her legs were far too short. In the muffled air, she sat down on the stool. When nothing happened, she glanced up. Her eyes met Solomon's. The hat still in his hands, he was looking down at her with a strange expression, almost the kind you'd give to an old friend, familiar but measuring. Quickly, he smiled, a little sheepishly, and dropped the hat on her head.

“Oh, there’s no doubt about it,” a voice whispered in her ear, and then, “Gryffindor!”

 _“What!_ _"_

In one sweeping soundless motion, all heads turned to look for the source of the outraged cry and it turned out to be Merlin, clinging with both white-knuckled hands to the doorframe of the Great Hall. 

_“Ha_ , mongrel, it looks like you’ve raised cuckoo!” Gilgamesh appeared at his shoulder, tangled in fistfuls of shimmering white hair and grinning with the mania of a hyperactive cat.

Merlin shook his fist at her, yelling, “Artoria, you make sure to lose lots of points from Gryffindor!” and then he was dragged out of sight.

The brief reappearance of the dueling professors seemed to crack the tension. Silence melted into whispers and Artoria finally got her round of applause, which grew more and more enthusiastic as the Gryffindors gradually got over their anxiety and got around to thinking it wouldn't be so bad at all to get Artoria Pendragon, daughter of dead Uther and Ygraine, missing for ten years, and the prophesied archenemy of the dark lord Goetia.

✷

That morning, when they’d arrived at King's Cross, her dearly beloved godfather Merlin had given her three orders. It was the first time she’d left their little homestead, so the buses and new sights and crowds had her dizzy by that point, but she'd always listened when he got serious.

The first was, "Anything suspicious, come to me or the headmaster."

The second was, "Don't leave the school grounds."

The third was, "Don't let anyone know you've met Waver before."

He'd hesitated for a moment, then elaborated, "Especially not Gilgamesh. He'll be the handsome, blond, angry one."

Merlin, I'll guard your secret to the death, she swore silently. She caught glimpses of him, through the press of Gryffindors filing out of the Great Hall, still screaming and dashing down the halls (and sometimes up the walls) with Gilgamesh in malevolent pursuit. Whatever your secret is. I will guard it to my dying day.

Mid-oath, though, someone tapped her shoulder. "You're really Artoria Pendragon?" 

"Yes?" Jostled out of her thoughts, she turned. It was another first-year.

"Wow," he said.

"What's your name?" 

"Gawain."

"Nice to meet you.”

"Nice to meet you, too,” he said politely. “You were really raised by Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Wow," he said again.

She recalled the stares Merlin had gotten when he'd entered. "Is he famous?"

"Incredibly." She waited for him to elaborate. It took him a second to realize that was what she was doing. "He's one of the ones who defeated Goetia," he said. "He's the one who got him so badly they say he's not much more than a ghost anymore." 

"Yeah?" She'd known this all her life, her parents having died the same night; the awe in his voice was unsettling.

"They say there's no magic he can't do, supposedly he can even see into people's thoughts and dreams—can he really?"

"I don't know, I mean," She thought for a moment. "I guess it has felt like he's known what I was thinking a few times." Alright, a lot of times. An annoying number of times. This conversation was starting to get weird, so she tried diverting the subject, "Is Gilgamesh famous too?"

By the end of it, for the umpteenth time that day, Artoria's head was spinning, and she nearly kicked all the unfamiliar belongings off her bed before she realized it wasn't her bed and apologized profusely to the other girl, who introduced herself as Ushiwakamaru or Minamoto-no-Yoshi…? 

Before they'd left, she'd made Merlin tell her about all the professors she'd have first year, except for Waver Velvet, who'd visited a couple times over the years, and Gilgamesh, who Merlin had melodramatically pined for all her life and referred to as her step-godfather whenever he wanted to see her turn green. It was only now that it finally occurred to her that that was an unforgivably insufficient descriptor. It also only now struck her that Merlin hadn't seen the man for the whole ten years he'd spent with her. Or most people. So whatever he said had to be taken with an ocean of salt. In fact, she didn’t even know that much about _him_. She’d never seen him angry, for instance.

A small paw tapped her cheek. Fou wanted in on the blanket.

Never mind, never mind, she decided, I'm here at school to learn _,_ so I'll figure out everyone soon enough, that's exactly what I'm supposed to do here. I’ll learn what I need to defeat Goetia, and I’ll figure out the man who raised me.

With that reasonable plan, she fell asleep.

✷

For all that Gilgamesh went around calling everyone mongrels, he was actually a half-blood. His mother came from a very old, very powerful pure-blood family, and she married a very rich Muggle, and together they produced the most autocratic baby the world had ever—sorry, one of the finest wizards Hogwarts had seen in a century, right up there with Solomon and Merlin for sheer infuriating talent. But, what really made him famous was that he'd spent the last decade screwing with Goetia. 

That dark wizard had killed his best friend and he'd never let it go, throwing aside all the career offers he'd gotten out of school in lieu of sabotaging the erstwhile dark lord at every turn. Which was a perfectly reasonable course of action, really, considering most of the magical community wanted to forget about the destruction Goetia had wrought the moment he was defeated. The gleeful violence with which Gilgamesh went about that task was another matter, though. He went around hunting and killing Goetia’s minions, the Demon Pillars, even the reformed ones. The methods varied, but there was a lot of impaling, apparently. He also blew up every residence Goetia was rumored to have taken at any point in time. Once, Goetia tried to possess a little girl in Solomon’s care, Solomon figured it out, and while he was out looking for books of exorcism Gilgamesh learned the theory to the Occlumency he’d always been able to do and taught the little girl. Supposedly he was trying to teach her to curse out the dark lord when Solomon returned just in time to stop him. He’d come out of that fateful duel with Goetia at the Pendragons’ house with cursed wounds that still caused him trouble, but that hardly stopped him. Goetia wanted the legendary herbs of immortality to recover his old strength, so Gilgamesh found them first, burned the whole stock of them, and left a Howler telling him what he’d done and daring him to come get the only one left, which would be in Gilgamesh's pocket. 

Then about eight years after the Pendragons' deaths and Merlin and Artoria's disappearance, Gilgamesh went back to Hogwarts, and Solomon, by then the exceptionally youthful headmaster due to the premature passing of his predecessor, as well as his own immeasurable magical skill and amiable disposition, made him his replacement as professor of Transfiguration.

But at the moment, Artoria really wished he taught something else. Like fencing or something. She’d never gotten why Merlin had made her learn to use a sword, but she was _good_ at it.

It was embarrassing to think of now, but she had to admit that ever since she’d found out that her classmates hadn't really been allowed to use magic until they entered school, part of her had expected to stand out, had looked forward to the praise. 

Now, though, the holes in Merlin’s training were becoming obvious. Sure, Professor Lainur had given her points to Gryffindor in History of Magic and she had performed excellently in Professor Velvet’s first Charms lesson, but she’d had no idea what was happening in Potions, and now she was staring at a match that was refusing to take on even the slightest character of a needle. Her face burned more hotly than it had since her first lessons at home as measured footsteps came closer, closer, and stopped, right in front of her desk.

“Well, now. Would you happen to be able to turn matches into swords, or did that fool consider this subject unworthy of his attention?” Gilgamesh sneered, folding his arms.

Today's class was the first time she'd seen him since he'd attacked Merlin in the Great Hall; he hadn't shown up at meals since. He’d even had the prefects hand out everyone’s schedules. Artoria ducked her head even lower, feeling herself getting angry now, because she knew everyone would be watching her since he’d decided to pick on her after all. He’d attacked Merlin in front of the whole school. Obviously he had a terrible temper, and look who she was, student of the despised Merlin.

“That’s why I’m here,” she muttered.

Next to her, Bedivere spun his wand anxiously.

“Keep that in mind,” Gilgamesh said, a trace of a grin in his voice, enough that Artoria looked up. “That bastard was always a natural. I don’t think he could explain most of his tricks even if he tried.” And then he called the other students over and walked them through the spell again with surprising patience.

✷

At the end of the day’s lessons, Artoria marched downstairs to Merlin’s office and, finding the door open, stepped right in. 

“He’s alright,” she grudgingly admitted.

“Who’s alright?” But it wasn't Merlin’s voice, and to her horror, who leaned out from behind a bookshelf but Gilgamesh himself, apparently... eating chocolate? 

And Fou was perched on his shoulder. 

Artoria stared at him for a second before she tore her eyes away and searched for Merlin. He hadn't had the office for long, but it was already a disaster. Books were scattered carelessly across the floor and represented the minority on the shelves, which were instead populated by flowers and potions. There was a fluffy doghouse balanced precariously on a stack of suitcases. Fou was certainly not a dog and Artoria knew he accordingly disdained the doghouse, which was just as well, because Merlin had stuffed his boots into it.

At last she caught sight of him half-hidden behind some framed object covered by a flowery sheet, bringing over a slice of cake. She gazed beseechingly at him for some cue on how to reply.

“Yeah, who’s alright?” Merlin asked, characteristically betraying her in cold blood. He set the cake down in front of Gilgamesh. And then refilled the other man’s cup of tea before settling down, hands on cheeks, to blissfully watch him chew.

“Bedivere,” Artoria mumbled. 

“Excellent! Already making friends, you are!” Merlin sent her a thumbs up.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, goodbye then.”

She darted out as quickly as she could. Thank god she hadn’t been more specific, but at least it seemed like Gilgamesh wasn’t trying to kill Merlin anymore, so that was good. But what's he doing in Merlin’s office? she thought. Afternoon tea? Are they friends again? Oh god, does that mean Merlin's going to be embarrassing? 

She was spared from imagining impending horrors, though, by a crisp slap on wood that echoed in the hall behind her. Following it came Gilgamesh's voice, cold and harsh.

“Sign.”

A pause. 

“You can’t really believe I’d do that,” Merlin said. 

Artoria instantly withdrew her semi-favorable review of her new professor.

Just as she was rushing back, however, the office door swung closed and their voices were cut off, just as if silenced by a spell. 

“Hey—!” But she stopped herself before her fists hit the door. What am I doing? They’re two grown wizards in a school. They can’t kill each other now. I’ll just have to make Merlin tell me what this is about.

Because she'd never heard her guardian sound so genuinely terrified.

✷

Herbology was a bit of a nightmare. Their instructor was a hardy-looking man called Arash, who’d introduced himself as a professional farmer and seemed approachable enough up until he brought out the pots of toddler mandrakes and cheerfully told them to put on earmuffs or risk being knocked out for the week. Dear Bedivere was so good with the mandrakes that Arash asked him to come over next morning to help feed them breakfast, but Artoria had very little patience for bad-tempered plants.

On the bright side, though, Artoria made a new friend over the course of the struggle with the murder babies. She and another Gryffindor, Cú Chulainn, fought over the mandrake pots the whole period, and by the time they were allowed to take off their earmuffs, her temper was up and she slammed her fist down on their last tray.

"A duel!"

Cú got right in her face. "2 a.m., second-floor storage room behind the fake wall!" he replied with a manic grin.

"Second-floor _girl's bathroom_ _,"_ she said.

 _"Ah?_ Why a girl's bathroom?!"

"You got to choose the floor, I choose the room. And," she leaned in until they were nose-to-nose, "That way we can wash off the _blood."_

"Oh, that's how it is? Alright, then, we'll see who's bleeding by the end."

Artoria straightened primly. "Gawain, will you be my second?"

"Sure.” Gawain brandished a broken pot like a sword.

Cú clapped the shoulder of the other boy at their mandrake tray. "Diarmuid, how about you back me up?"

"Of course," Diarmuid said, just as delighted as Gawain was to be taking part in a duel for honor.

So, it was with great excitement that she headed off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, eager to put some fear of God into her opponent. Not that she had unanimous support, though.

"Are you sure about this?" Bedivere tried, matching her brisk pace towards Merlin's classroom. Gawain was off behind them somewhere, enthusiastically reviewing hexes he'd heard about with Lancelot and Tristan.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Artoria retorted. 

"I hear he was taught by Scáthach," Bedivere said.

"Wait a minute, the really old—"

She was cut off when the hall before them exploded and something bright and fluffy shot out of the nearest classroom and crashed into a suit of armor across the hallway with an ugly screech of metal on stone.

In disbelief, Artoria watched her teacher clamber out of the shattered armor, his white hair and robes scorched and smoking. Merlin directed a trembling wand towards the classroom and cried, "You're all insane! This is no different from last time!"

Gilgamesh came striding out, looking exasperated. "You're outnumbered," he said.

"Since when did you care for democracy?!"

Gilgamesh's eye twitched. "You're wrong," he said.

"You can't change your angle just like that!"

Gilgamesh averted his gaze, which happened to bring the budding crowd of students to his attention. "You're making a racket,” he said, “We'll come back to this."

"Hey, fix my classroom first! Hey!"

But he'd strolled out of sight already. Sighing, the other professor straightened and flicked his wand to restore his robes to pure white.

“Now,” Merlin turned to the assembled first-years, his hair still sizzling faintly. “I will acknowledge that I probably haven’t made the most impressive showing so far. However, I hope you will allow me to address, regardless, any concerns brewing in your little heads that you might have the wrong Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. That man,” he gestured towards the stairwell that Gilgamesh had just disappeared into, “Doesn’t know a single defensive spell."

He paused for effect.

Then apparently got some thinking of his own done during that pause. “Well, I suppose the Patronus Charm counts,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “His is a cute cat, who would’ve guessed? But that’s _it!”_

"Wow," said Cú. Artoria surreptitiously gestured at Merlin's smoking hair. He let out a small _oh!_ and put out the fire.

Suddenly, they heard a distant yell from Gilgamesh and a thundering rumble that sounded like a whole wall collapsing. _"Oppugno!"_

That brought a bright smile out of Merlin. "I jinxed the stairs, just in case," he told them. "And what he just used to escape the rockfall was a jinx generally used to direct objects at some poor victim."

Another angry cry, this time sounding like Professor Velvet. 

"If he'd bothered to learn something like the Shield Charm, people might hate him less," Merlin said serenely.

Obviously, once he said that, the class divided into parties that wanted to learn either the Oppugno Jinx or the Shield Charm, but he managed to put everyone in their place after five minutes of ineffectual practice at each (to her satisfaction, Cú was just as incompetent at both spells as the rest of them). They switched to more on-level content.

All in all, a fairly productive class. Artoria hung back afterwards and approached Merlin.

"Hello, Artoria, would you like to go for some tea?" he said, waving his wand to fix up the classroom. As a virtuous instructor with the interest of maximizing class time, he hadn’t yet done the full repairs needed to undo the damage he and Gilgamesh had caused.

"I've still got homework," she said. 

"Oh, I forgot about that.” He conjured a row of flowers to decorate the bookshelves and brushed off his hands in satisfaction. “What is it, then?"

"Is Gilgamesh trying to get something out of you?" she asked.

He looked at her and laughed breezily. "We're both trying to get quite a lot out of each other."

"What did you mean by 'you're all insane?'" 

"The administration. You should know our pay as professors is terrible, even if we get room and board."

"No different from last time?"

"They did offer me a spot pretty soon after I graduated," he said smugly.

"What was he trying to get you to sign?" she pressed.

"To sign…? Oh, that, it was the employment contract. They updated the terms and conditions."

"But you didn't want to sign it."

"Yes, it's inhumane to change an employment contract."

"Really?"

"Yes indeed."

"Huh."

"I'm touched you were worried about me, Artoria! But don't work yourself up too much, I am your reliable godfather and he is, after all, your step-godfather."

The vomit welled up in her innards. _"Ugh, again!"_

✷

“I don’t want a step-godfather,” Artoria muttered. 

“You don’t want a what?” asked Gawain.

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

She took a long swig of pumpkin juice. That didn’t help at all.

“He’s definitely trying to get something out of Merlin!” Artoria hissed. “And he won't even let him talk about it! We have to figure out what it is and stop him.”

“Why?” asked Lancelot, stabbing a fork into his steak. 

Artoria stabbed her fork into her own steak. “Think about it! Merlin’s obsessed with him, but if whatever’s on that thing Gilgamesh wants him to sign is something even _Merlin_ won’t do or give, it can’t be anything good!”

“No, I know, but I mean, why do we have to do something?” Artoria furrowed her brow at him, then glanced at Gawain and found him looking just as uncomfortable as Lancelot, who went on, “Merlin’s one of the greatest wizards out there. I don’t think Gilgamesh can really do anything to him. And if he can, if even Merlin can’t handle him, then how can we?”

Artoria clapped his shoulder. “Have more confidence, Lancelot. We have the element of surprise.”

“I don't think Merlin would appreciate us butting into his private affairs, though,” Bedivere said, gracefully sliding his knife through his steak. “He does seem to like Gilgamesh.”

“He does,” Artoria breathed. “Yes, he does.” A fire blazed up in the pit of her stomach. “We’ve got to deal with that, too! I haven't told you all of that, yet, right? He’s liked him for years, and look! The moment they meet again Gilgamesh tries to kill him, and now he’s trying to drag him into something he obviously doesn’t want to do. Merlin’s usually a bastard _,_ but he’s such a… a _doormat_ in front of him…. If we don’t stop them now Gilgamesh is just going to take advantage of him—I won’t stand for it! Are you with me or not?”

With varying degrees of reluctance, they all agreed.

"What do we do, then?" Gawain asked, shovelling in another mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I'd like to see that contract of his… But I don't know how feasible that is. I think the best thing to do now is try to catch them alone," Artoria said.

"They'll know we're there," Bedivere pointed out.

"I've got an invisibility cloak."

They all gave a start. To get as far away from the teachers as possible, they'd chosen to sit at the very end of the Gryffindor table, and another boy in Hufflepuff colors was now staring at them, apparently on the way in to dinner. Artoria didn't recognize him.

"Oh," he said. "I'm Robin Hood."

"You have an invisibility cloak," said Artoria.

"Yeah. I can lend it to you."

Artoria narrowed her eyes. "Thanks, but why?" Would Gilgamesh have spies? I can't tell if he'd bother.

Robin shrugged. "Whatever you're doing sounds interesting."

Dodgy answer. "And what do you have to get out of it?"

He scratched the back of his head. "You wouldn't happen to know a way to avoid being turned into a pig, would you?"

Artoria scrolled through the spells in her mental catalog. That sounded vaguely familiar, like something Merlin would tell her when he was hyperactively drunk or pretending to be drunk as an excuse to be hyperactive, she was never sure. "Yeah, I think?"

"Can you teach me?"

She put out her hand. "Alright, we have a deal."

He stepped in and shook her hand. 

"Wait," Gawain piped up. They both looked at him.

"Can we borrow the cloak tonight, then?"

✷

"So you've come," Cú said, grinning viciously.

He'd have looked more threatening if he and Diarmuid weren't obviously standing as far away as they could from the bathroom stalls, nearly leaning on the sinks. 

"Prepare to die," said Artoria. Joke's on you, I _can_ do a decent Shield Charm.

“What's he doing here?” said Cú, jerking his chin.

Artoria glanced at Robin, who’d insisted on coming with them—the cloak was probably the most expensive thing he owned (it was now carefully tucked under his robes). “Oh, we ran into him on the way,” she said. “He won’t tell, right?”

Robin put up his hands. “Your fight, your business. I am but a passerby.” Then he melted into the shadows. 

“Right, then,” said Artoria, almost bouncing on her feet with excitement. They bowed quickly, and as soon as the courtesy was over she shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_

 _"Protego!"_ shouted Cú.

Her spell bounced off and Artoria stared at him. 

"You're a first year," she said.

"So're you," said Cú, also staring.

"You were _faking_ in class?!"

"So were you!"

"Why in the world do you know spells like that?!"

"The old lady heard I was prophesied to die young, so she decided I’d just have to learn everything earlier. Why the hell do _you_ know stuff like that?"

Artoria wanted to curse, of course the Ministry of Magic wouldn't pick on Scáthach. She fought down the angry embarrassment. "Well, Goetia's trying to kill me!"

"Ahh, that makes sense."

"Well, now what?"

He pointed his wand at her again. _"Silencio!"_

_"Meloflors!"_

They managed to dodge each others’ spells, silently agreeing that shields and counters would be exquisitely dull. Artoria sent jinx after jinx at him, then crashed into a stall to avoid his. He crashed into a sink, and suddenly seemed to get a bright idea. A moment later the soap dispenser came flying towards Artoria, raining soap onto the already damp floor.

“Hey, watch it!” Gawain shouted.

“Cú, we don’t know how to fix that!” Diarmuid added.

But too bad for either second’s concerns about property damage, Artoria was furious at _not—flattening—him—immediately_ —and finally! A hex shot out of the tip of her wand that blew off half a sink and— “Damn!” Cú just managed to dodge.

“Are you insane?!” Diarmuid cried. 

Artoria shot out of the stall, losing control of her feet for a second and sliding in the soapy puddles. She managed to grab onto the shattered basin, though, prompting Cú to retreat behind an open stall door. _“Petrificus Totalus!”_ she snapped.

She was sure she'd aimed well, but nothing happened. Cú realized the same and started laughing at her. Stupid! She geared up to try again.

“What are you doing?” 

Merlin was standing in the bathroom doorway, still fully dressed in his white robes, which made him look almost ghostly in the flickering torchlight.

"What was that jinx that turns people into dogs?" Artoria asked. "Also, I’m sorry about the sink.”

Violet eyes drifted over to the sink, but he soon decided to affix a stern gaze upon her. “Are you children trying to duel?” he said.

“Yeah, so?” said Cú, leaning out of his stall.

Merlin sighed. “Alright, all four of you, come with me.” 

“Four…?” Artoria glanced around. Robin had disappeared. Sneaky of him, but good judgement in the end, probably. At least Merlin wouldn’t find out about the cloak. “Gawain and Diarmuid are only here because we asked them,” she said, marching out of the bathroom. Cú kicked a sink resentfully and yelped when the stall door behind him swung open and knocked him over as punishment.

Merlin led them through the shadowy castle, not saying much. Artoria figured it was probably best not to say much, either. They’d knowingly broken the school rules, even if it was for their honor, and she was prepared to take the punishment. If they lost points, she’d just work harder to win them back. After a few flights of stairs, they stopped at an unfamiliar door. The headmaster’s office? Merlin rapped on it a few times. There was no response.

“Curious,” he said. He peered down at the lit crack under the door. “He’s usually awake. Oh well. _Alohom_ —”

The door swung open. Ah, she should have known.

“What,” intoned a dishevelled-looking Gilgamesh. His hair, usually neat and soft, stuck up in strange places, and he had a reddened splotch on his forehead.

“Oh, good, we came at the right time,” said Merlin, gesturing at his forehead, “It’s not healthy to sleep at your desk.”

Gilgamesh squinted, uncomprehending. “Huh?”

Merlin reached over and tapped the splotch with his wand, wiping it clean away. “There, unblemished.” Gilgamesh’s scarlet eyes went wide. 

“You—”

“But, dear head of Gryffindor house, tonight I am here to present to you misbehaving students.” Merlin went on, pulling Artoria and company into the light. “Artoria and Cú were dueling in the second-floor girls’ bathroom, caused quite a bit of damage, too. I believe the other two are their seconds.”

Gilgamesh arched an eyebrow. “Well,” he said. “Go clean up after them. I’ll deal with them here.”

“Certainly.” Merlin performed an exaggerated bow, then spun around to leave. "Oh, that's right.” He spun back round with a whip of silvery hair. “I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I might as well now. An owl just came, Achilles said he'll be dropping by at Christmas.”

"Who?" said Gilgamesh.

"Achilles? The Greek Seeker—Oh, I forgot you haven't followed Quidditch since Ishtar got picked up by the Goddess Alliance. Hey, but don't you remember? He was your Seeker when we were here!"

"'Achilles'.... Oh, him. But he wasn't very good, was he?"

"Were any of us very good, in hindsight?"

Gilgamesh sniffed. "Enkidu and I were brilliant.” 

"You were thugs," said Merlin. “I’m not even entirely sure Enkidu was playing the same game as the rest of us.”

“Only when you were around,” Gilgamesh said mildly.

“Ehh, really? I feel so abused,” he said, and then he trotted off into the dark.

Then he came back. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

“No.”

“I’ll treat y… _you_ can treat me,” he changed tack mid-sentence.

“No.”

He trotted off into the dark again.

That left four children staring up at Gilgamesh. He looked them over. “You’re in Hufflepuff,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Diarmuid. 

“Rejoice, you’ll be berated tomorrow by your head of house. As for you three—Artoria Pendragon, have you truly taken that mongrel’s words to heart and devoted yourself to losing as many points as you can?”

His voice was low and snide and that sent all of Artoria’s penitential inclinations out the window. Her face burned furiously, _again_. “No,” she muttered.

“Good, because there are more efficient ways than destroying toilets in the middle of the night. Why not set fire to the Great Hall at breakfast? And ah, Cú Chulainn and Gawain, raring to have a fight, are you. Let’s see, fifty points off for each of you.”

Artoria’s heart plummeted, teachers had only given out points in increments of five or ten so far! “That’s a hundred and fifty points down for your own house!” she cried.

“Ha! Admire your handiwork,” he laughed, and suddenly doubled over and vomited a stream of blood.

“Professor?!” Diarmuid rushed forward.

Gilgamesh quickly righted himself and waved him off. A flick of his wand and the blood was gone. “A minor affliction. Now, what spells?”

They were all taken aback. Cú repeated, “What spells?”

Gilgamesh clicked his tongue. “What _spells_ did you use in your play-duel.”

“It wasn’t a play duel!” protested Artoria.

He ignored her. “You may both have five points back if you report which spells you witnessed your opponent fail or miss.”

 _“Silencio,”_ Artoria said immediately. But that was her mouth moving before she meant to, and it already felt dishonorable, but too late.

Shooting her a vengeful look, Cú said, _“Petrificus Totalus._ And I’m not sure _Meloflors_ was working—”

In an instant all four of them were mutely paralyzed on the spot with their heads encased in pumpkins. And he left them like that all night. 


	2. Fortunetelling

When dawn finally broke through the narrow windows, Artoria hated Gilgamesh more than ever. What had been a bud of distaste had now flowered into an exhilarating, virulent flaming heart of loathing in the sunlight of a new day. The office door swung open and Gilgamesh exited, looking pleased with himself. As if that wasn’t enough, he even had the gall to seem mildly surprised to see them, standing in a row against the wall, like he’d completely forgotten what he’d done to them. He freed them and gestured that they be gone, saying something like "Go enjoy a couple hours of sleep, that should be enough for midget knights, hahahaha!" With that, he sauntered off downstairs.

It took eleven kicks to his door for Artoria to work off enough of her fury to form words.

_"Abuse of authority!"_

Cú, on the other hand, just stretched, limbs crackling, and yawned. Oh yeah, he'd been raised by Scáthach. 

They said goodbye to Diarmuid and stumped back to the Gryffindor dormitories, Artoria stewing the whole way. The hours of standing, frozen, staring at the nothingness of the inside of a pumpkin had given her ample time to think, and she had managed to carve into her soul the conclusion that she’d never met anyone—well, granted, she _hadn’t_ met many people, some Muggles whenever Merlin let them out in disguise, but still—she’d never before met anyone who'd managed to rub her the wrong way on so many counts.

He was petty, violent, incapable of being reasoned with, could not communicate with anyone without some degree of scorn, and Artoria could barely register the fact that anybody liked him, because this idea was so unreasonable. 

“Why don’t you just break into his office?”

A twitch of surprise shot through the whole party at breakfast. “It’s you again!” Gawain exclaimed, brandishing his forkful of mashed potatoes. 

Robin stuck his hands in his pockets. “You’re still at the same table.”

“And we’d never stoop so low!” Lancelot cried, astounded.

But Artoria, on the other hand, even if she knew it was a horrible, dishonorable and underhanded tactic, even if she was certain it was wrong, she also felt strongly at the moment that it’d been Merlin who’d taught her the difference between right and wrong, and somehow that made her just the tiniest bit tempted to get at Gilgamesh. See for herself that contract of his, prove he was an evil little man and force Merlin to realize it. “…How?” she asked Robin.

“Maybe poison him? You just need to get in long enough to get a look at that thing he wanted signed, right?”

“Poison….”

“Poison!” exclaimed Lancelot.

“I have some arsenic, if you want,” Robin said.

Lancelot frowned. “What’s that?”

“No, no, no, we can’t actually kill him!” Artoria rapidly backtracked and suddenly knew the her of several seconds ago had been sleep-deprived and insane. “We just have to get him to go away.”

“You could steal a cure. Like a bezoar,” said Robin. “You could cure him, but he’d probably be incapacitated long enough.”

“No, we should just make him sort of sick, maybe,” Artoria said. "Would a bezoar even work on Muggle poisons?"

“I’m sure there’s something that’ll just knock him out,” Gawain said. “Oh, what about the mandrakes! Bedivere can borrow one for us, Arash likes him.”

“That’d get all this over with quickly,” Lancelot murmured. “But I think Bedivere might refuse?”

“Hm, I suppose. Oh, Robin was already suggesting we steal a bezoar, he can get us a mandrake, too.”

Robin looked like he’d been zapped. “I never said I was helping you," he said, hurriedly stepping away.

“But I bet you’d be really good at it!” Artoria exclaimed, lunging out.

“Have fun, you guys,” Robin’s face was now almost perpendicular to the floor as he strained to escape her grip.

“Come on, I’ll teach you how to turn people into pigs!” Robin went stiff. Not that she knew how, but Merlin would and it was all for Merlin's own good anyway.

Robin groaned. “Oh man. Why am I so easy to convince."

Artoria triumphantly released him. “Gawain,” she proclaimed imperiously, “You go with….” she trailed off.

“Hm? Artoria?”

She was staring at the high table. Where Merlin had just finished coating a scone in cream and jam and was now slicing it into bites. With a dainty hand he speared a piece and lifted his fork in front of Gilgamesh, who let him feed him, looking most satisfied.

“Never mind,” she said. “We already have a distraction. Robin, let me borrow your cloak.” He surreptitiously passed it to her. 

She glanced up to make sure Gilgamesh and Merlin were still up there, then pretended to need to throw up and dashed out of the Great Hall.

“Oh, this is what happens when Bedivere's not here,” Tristan murmured over his toast, distraught.

The castle was almost deserted at breakfast time, and she knew the way all too well. Finally, lungs burning, she got to Gilgamesh's office. The door was locked, but Merlin had almost opened it with the unlocking spell last night. Plus, she thought grimly, she doubted Gilgamesh would bother enchanting his office door, if he even knew any spells to defend it. That man probably assumed no one would dare trespass on his property.

_“Alohomora.”_

Sure enough, there was a click and she was in. She slipped inside and re-locked the door, then took off the cloak, stowed it under her robes, and began her investigation.

Gilgamesh kept a surprisingly neat office. In fact, it was almost obsessively organized despite being lined with gaudy golden shelves and stuffed full of books, boxes, weapons and other unidentifiable objects. Her eyes trailed over the shelves, to a great wooden desk, and…. 

In an open closet, there was a strange basin that seemed to be giving off shining light, or smoke.

Curiosity got the better of her. She crossed the office and looked down into it. It was like a pool of water, except, there were things moving in its depths… people, she realized. She leaned even closer. A familiar head of fluffy hair.

✷

She was plunged into the pool in free fall, and probably screamed as she fell down and down, and then she was falling past stone walls and suddenly landed lightly on her feet. It only took her a second to recognize the Great Hall, somehow she was back again. “Oh, no,” she muttered. She sighed and turned to face the music. 

Contrary to her expectations, Gilgamesh and Merlin weren’t at the high table. In fact, most of the faces there she didn’t recognize. Discomfited, she glanced around, and choked.

Goodness, that was a face that was positively angelic.

It was also definitely Gilgamesh. A lot younger, but it was impossible to mistake that cold look.

“What have you done to me,” she said. He didn’t react to her at all.

“So you’re the one who convinced Solomon to start this business,” said Gilgamesh, crossing his arms, the sun hitting at just the right angle to dramatically cast his shadow over a fluffy-headed Slytherin boy bent over breakfast and a book… Merlin. Artoria couldn’t help but marvel. He looked just that bit more disheveled than she was used to. His hair was still short, so it lacked the splendor it had when it was floor-length and seemed more scruffy than anything. But there was his younger, elfishly pretty face.

This is a memory, she realized. She vaguely remembered Merlin speaking of devices that let people store or empty their minds of memories. That gave her a shot of savage pleasure. Apparently Gilgamesh is having _issues_.

Young Merlin peeked up and around. “Oh, hello," he said, amiably.

In response Gilgamesh brandished a sheaf of pink, beribboned cards decorated with lacy birds. Behind him, a small Solomon went through three shades of deep red.

“What seems to be the matter?” Merlin inquired. “Though first, I have to establish, as his business partner, that we don’t control fate, so we don’t control the prophecies you receive or the consequences of your receipt of those prophecies, so any and all complaints pertaining to the fortunes heard by our customers should be directed to the heavens above, ideally on a cloudless day, for better reception.”

Gilgamesh shook the cards in his face. “That’s not the problem, idiot—Are you _trying_ to cheapen his clairvoyance?!”

“Eh?” Merlin clutched his heart in shock. “I only wanted to spread the love! He has a skill, and Valentine’s is the perfect season to make use of it, and make a bit of pocket money, too! And he agreed of his own volition, didn’t you, Solomon?”

Solomon wheeled through three more shades of red. “Yes, I did, Gilgamesh….”

“Irrelevant! Would I not know Solomon? He’s a sheep, he’ll do whatever you tell him to do if you sound authoritative enough.”

“Hey, I don't!”

“HAHAHA, don’t you? You believed Ishtar when she said she was a goddess.”

“I was three!”

“Wow, all the rich people really do grow up with each other,” said Merlin.

“Anyway, that matters little!” said Gilgamesh. “I merely came to inform you that I won't be allowing Solomon to continue performing such base tricks for you mongrels like some faker. If you have any more of these,” he rattled the cards again, “Turn them over now and we can consider the matter closed.”

“I don’t have any,” said Merlin.

Gilgamesh glared at him. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” said Merlin. Red and violet eyes met and kept each other.

When the standoff reached its twentieth second, a sweet-looking girl took the opportunity of apparent silence to hesitantly approach them. 

Merlin turned away from his overbearing visitor. “Good morning to you, Medea.”

She brushed a strand of violet hair out of her face. “Um, yes—I was wondering if, you might still be selling….”

“Why of course!” With a smile worth a thousand stars, Merlin slipped a hand into his pocket and whipped out one of those lacy pink cards. “For you, that’ll be five Knuts.”

“Thank you.” She handed him the coins and immediately unfolded the card. The lace on the cover came to life in spew of pink and gold sparkles, soaring up into the air and intertwining with red ribbon to take the shape of a small round bird with a quaint little bow around its neck that fluttered back down to land on the open card and chirp gaily, “ _THINK AGAIN.”_

Medea frowned, then strode off.

Merlin hadn’t bothered to watch the spectacle, electing to pour himself a glass of milk and go back to his book. A few sentences later, he peered around again. “Oh, you're still here?”

Gilgamesh's eyes were nearly popping out of his head with the force of his glaring.

Merlin spread his palms. “I don’t have any,” he repeated.

Gilgamesh flung the cards at him, and Merlin, always delighted to conserve energy and resources, dropped his book onto the bench and scrambled to retrieve them all. One of them slipped out of his hands and fell open on the floor, sending up a spray of sparks and swiping right past his nose. As he was checking his nostrils for paper cuts, the bird shot back to the card, narrowly missing his head.

 _“ONE OF UNIMPEACHABLE BEAUTY SHALL BE YOUR DESTINY,”_ it trilled.

Merlin blinked a few times. Then he craned his neck to grin at Solomon, who was currently half-huddled behind Gilgamesh, apparently hoping the oppressive aura pouring off the other boy would hide him from nearby spectators. “That’s so sweet of you, Solomon! Thank you for giving me hope in life.”

Solomon muttered something like, “I'm going to go now.” 

He was sabotaged by his long hair. “No, we’re settling this now,” Gilgamesh said, one hand restraining Solomon and the other on his wand.

“Come now!” Merlin said, “It’s really quite fun. Cheap fortune-telling it may be, but isn’t the lowest kind of entertainment often the most affecting? The kind that really speaks to people, without being locked behind mystical educational paywalls? Here!” He thrust a card into Gilgamesh's hands and before he could react, pressed the other’s thumbs on the edges and pulled it open. The sparks shot up between them, illuminating their faces with rosy cheer. Again the bird dove up in a whirl of lace and plunged back down— 

_“LOVE IS PERHAPS THE SINGULAR DOMAIN IN WHICH YOUR GOOD FORTUNE SHALL FAIL YOU,”_ it warbled.

Gilgamesh's expression went from thunderous to apocalyptic. 

“Alright, you were the one who said it was fake!” Solomon cried.

The memory swirled away into pearlescent fog.

Now Gilgamesh was racing down to the Quidditch field.

"Oh, look who's late for baby's first Quidditch game!" A girl on the Slytherin side yelled.

Gilgamesh regally braced his club on the grass. "Isn't it to give you a head start?" he called back.

"Worry not, Ishtar!" Another Gryffindor called out, "The golden one and I have ensured that our team is equipped with the finest brooms gold can buy. Sure as the sun hangs in the sky and shines over this match, your destruction shall be swift, your tears and the tears of your team shall water the lawn, your screams….”

Artoria turned her attention to the rest of the pitch. As expected, the stands swelled with students showing red and green colors and holding up rude signs. She even spotted Solomon sitting high up behind the commentator's booth, eating cake and staring into space. Speaking of which, if she remembered correctly…. The players had lined up in position, and hovering on the broom across from Gilgamesh was—

“You!” said Gilgamesh.

“I am not only a beautiful flower,” Merlin informed him primly, “I am also a jock.” 

And then her vision filled with smoke and clouds and she nearly tripped and fell, because suddenly she was standing on the sloping roof of a snow-covered turret. The sky was familiarly stormy. Below her, Merlin sat precariously on a patch cleared of snow, broomstick tucked between his chest and his knees. She slid carefully over to him and found he was staring down at the tiny figures dotting the white grounds, his face expressionless, not even painted with his usual benign smile. He was so still he might've melted into the snow behind him if it weren't for his dark robes.

“Thinking of jumping?” Both she and Merlin peered over their shoulders. Gilgamesh glided up into view on his broomstick, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Not really,” said Merlin. “Though it does get dull sometimes, watching.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Solomon's _studying_.”

Gilgamesh laughed at him. “So you come up here to sulk?”

“Looking for interesting people,” Merlin said. “That’s what I’m doing.”

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “Can you tell from all the way up here?”

Merlin shrugged. “I met Solomon when I saw him getting picked on from up here. I thought he would be an interesting character, since I knew he could vaporize anyone who messed with him if he really tried.” Finally, his lips stretched into a smile. “And this time, I seem to have attracted someone.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself, mongrel,” Gilgamesh huffed. “I was merely bored, and thought I'd spotted an idiot.”

Merlin laughed. “Well, that makes two of us! For the first part, for the first part.”

It seemed to be the start of another year; she saw teachers handing out schedules along the tables. Gilgamesh had his sticking out of a pocket and was sauntering across the Great Hall like he owned the place. Following behind him was an astonishingly beautiful wizard—witch?—moving so gracefully they almost glided, trailing green hair possibly even longer than Merlin's was now. Gilgamesh yanked a fistful of Merlin’s messy ponytail. 

"Mongrel," he said, grinning.

"Greetings, your Majesty," Merlin replied. "How was your vacation? Oh! Who's this?"

"Enkidu. The old geezers sent them to straighten me out," Gilgamesh said, oddly smug.

"I am pleased to meet you.” Enkidu spoke in a voice almost as gentle as Bedivere's. 

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance as well," said Merlin, shaking hands with them. “Is this the friend you mentioned?” he asked Gilgamesh.

“Of course,” the latter declared proudly. Then he spotted Merlin’s bacon and helped himself to it.

He really hasn’t changed, Artoria thought helplessly. She glanced over to Enkidu, who had just bent down and now reappeared with a spider cupped in their palms, rescued from the floor.

“How do you get along with _him?!”_ Artoria couldn't help but cry out, aghast.

Merlin, though, seemed unperturbed by this demonstration of uncommon virtue. “Then I’m sure we’ll _all_ be great friends,” he said, smiling with such saintly charity that Artoria half-expected angels to come singing through the tall windows.

Enkidu smiled back, warm and gentle as the spring sun breaking over the wintry air back in Merlin and Artoria's farmstead. Then they dropped the spider into Merlin's scrambled eggs when no one was looking.

I take it back, Artoria thought. They are quite similar.

Artoria wasn’t especially surprised, but Gilgamesh and Enkidu lacked her ten years of experience in Merlinism, so they stared at the ludicrously pink and frilly storefront of the tearoom for so long that a couple of cupids started singing at them for loitering.

“Oh,” said Enkidu. “This is what he meant by tea.”

Gilgamesh's face screwed up like he was about to go to war. “What’s he up to, this time….”

“I’m certain it’s in the same vein as the giant snake,” Enkidu said serenely. “But it appears I previously misinterpreted his intentions. An interesting choice—I always thought this,” they gestured vaguely at the cupids, who rhymed rudely back, “A most transient form of companionship. But if this is the case, I have no objection.” With that, they peeled away and breezily headed back up the street.

“Hey!” Gilgamesh shouted after them. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on coming along?”

They glanced back in a silky toss of green hair. “What, do you really want me to stand guard over you, Gil?”

He looked affronted for a second but grinned when he said, “Go eat grass, then.” He kicked open the door and headed inside under the jingle of bells.

Merlin had a cramped window booth and offered a dazzling smile over his menu when Gilgamesh found him.

“Shall you pay?” Merlin said brightly.

Gilgamesh dropped himself into the seat across and unloaded a pocketful of Galleons on the table in front of Merlin as if to say, it is natural for you to behold my wealth.

Merlin glanced around. “Enkidu didn’t come along?” he asked, surprised.

“No, they babbled something philosophical and went off to eat grass,” Gilgamesh said.

“Ah, yes, eat grass,” Merlin nodded sagely. “Why?”

Gilgamesh’s brows drew. “You’re unusually interested in Enkidu today.”

A clap as Merlin snapped the menu closed with rare gusto. “You’re right! Why should I be, when I have you in front of me?”

"Of course I'm right!" Gilgamesh replied, propping his feet up on the table while Artoria gagged.

"Eh? Gilgamesh? Merlin?" Their heads turned. It was Solomon, sitting at a nearby table with a violet-haired girl. 

"Wow," said Merlin.

“Would you look at that,” said Gilgamesh.

Solomon scrambled to his feet and offered his apologies to the girl, from snatches Artoria gathered he had urgent matters to discuss with those two in the window booth. The girl raised her eyebrows but shrugged.

"Oh thank God, you saved me," Solomon whispered, melting into their booth after elbowing Merlin over. Artoria knew there was no question of trying to sit on the other side, not even for the future headmaster. (She herself had knelt behind Merlin, on the back of the seat).

"But I think Sheba's a very nice girl," said Merlin. Solomon flushed and placed his tea on the table. 

"So, what are you two doing here?" he asked.

"Afternoon tea," said Merlin, shamelessly reaching out towards Solomon's cup. "Ow!" Gilgamesh had stamped on his hand. 

_"Here?"_ Solomon asked incredulously. He turned to Gilgamesh "Thanks— _ah."_

Following his assertion his dominance, Gilgamesh had claimed the cup as his own. "Ask him," he said, tipping his shoe at Merlin, who frowned.

"What's wrong with this place? I thought it was charmingly furnished last time we passed by." He looked to Gilgamesh. "And how's the tea?"

"Disgraceful."

"I can also tell you how that tea tastes," Solomon said pointedly.

Merlin blinked at him. "I thought you were distracted by your company over there."

Solomon coughed. "Never mind. Actually, I did have something to talk to you about, Gilgamesh.” With the other’s hum of interest, he pulled a creamy scroll of parchment out of his pocket and unfurled it on the table, from which Gilgamesh had charitably removed his feet. Artoria leaned over Merlin’s head to get a look and let out an appreciative breath despite herself. The parchment was covered with exquisitely penned diagrams—arches, chambers, all drawn to geometric perfection, she thought she could fall into the low, round hall in the center of the sheet. Solomon said, “I looked at your designs and find them quite sound on the whole, but I think we can add—”

“Wait,” said Merlin, narrowing his eyes and cupping his chin critically, “This place… looks extremely familiar.”

“I would hope so,” Solomon said. “We can only get the remodeling done if you let us in.”

Merlin was sitting alone in a flower patch a ways off, weaving a flower crown. He probably couldn’t see them, Gilgamesh and Enkidu, lounging in the branches of a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Artoria noticed Gilgamesh kept glancing over to the flower patch, and stared for an especially long time when Merlin apparently made a mistake and his flower crown fell to pieces in his lap, leaving him blinking, at a loss.

“Enkidu,” he said slowly. 

“Yes, Gil?” Enkidu took a leaf out of their mouth.

“Why do you like dogs?” he asked.

“Because they’re cute.” Then they went back to chewing leaves, confident they were understood.

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes and, judging from further minute fluctuations in expression, seemed to go through a complicated system of analyses in the space of a few seconds. “Enkidu,” he said.

“Yes, Gil?”

“You’re still my best friend.”

“Okay.” 

Confident he was understood, Gilgamesh jumped out of the tree. Merlin spotted him quickly enough, and must have read something in his face that Artoria, hurrying behind him, couldn’t see, because he was standing to attention by the time Gilgamesh came to a stop in front of the flower bed.

Merlin offered his signature refreshing smile. “How may I help you this afternoon?” 

With an imperious hum of barest acknowledgement, Gilgamesh folded his arms. That prompted a bemused tilt of a fluffy head. “Hm?”

“Go out with me,” Gilgamesh said.

The sun was very bright today. There were butterflies. Merlin and Artoria both stared at him.

“Go, where?” Merlin said.

A disdainful snort. “Don’t waste my time playing stupid. Go out with me.”

 _“Why?”_ Merlin’s voice was weirdly shrill.

“What do you mean, why—you should be honored I've decided on you! Wasn’t this what you were angling for the whole time!?”

“Ah? Was I?” Merlin sounded faintly panicked, whether it was from the concept or Gilgamesh's increasingly stormy expression Artoria couldn't decide. “Since when?”

“Asking me to tea all the time—the snake in the bath—” Gilgamesh seemed to have been thrown off balance, his words coming out uncharacteristically erratic.

Merlin hurriedly put up his hands and babbled, “You spend so much time with Enkidu, I was afraid you might need some alternate company! I have to establish that I hold myself aloof from any and all temporal affections,” he said very quickly before—running away. 

Nearly tripping on the stony path and fleeing so fast he had to almost collapse onto a wall to change direction and dart into the castle.

Gilgamesh stood there blinking, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Then, slowly, as the wind picked up and the grass rustled in shimmers of sunlight, he started laughing. “YOU WILL!” he shouted after Merlin.

Images suffused in silver—forcing a comb through white hair—a great serpent—a golden cat jumping into a wincing Merlin's arms—the return of Solomon’s lacy fortune cards—the hospital wing—sky so blue it seemed unreal—

The three of them were standing in a deserted classroom draped in blinding sunlight. “So?” Gilgamesh said irritably. “What does Goetia have to do with you?”

Solomon clenched his fists, honey-colored eyes wide. “Everything.”

And then silvery smoke again, and—

Photos alive—no, her parents, real in this memory, standing in a living room, faces both anxious and angry. Enkidu was idly browsing books from the shelves, Solomon was tensely gripping a teacup. Merlin was gripping Gilgamesh's shoulder, Gilgamesh was glaring at her parents.

“You can’t just hide from him, unless you plan to have us guard you all your lives,” Gilgamesh said icily.

“Gil,” Merlin began.

“Come now,” Gilgamesh cast his stern gaze around the room. “Have you ever seen a finer assembly of wizards?”

Suddenly Artoria’s robes went tight around her neck. Struggling wildly, she was dragged backwards and upwards. A silvery splash and she came gasping out of the basin. As soon as she could see the office again, the grip on the back of her robes released.

She whirled around, wand ready.

“So that’s what you were after,” Gilgamesh said dryly, stepping back to sit on top of his desk, crossing his legs. “You were glaring most ominously this morning. Did he never teach you to affect good intentions before striking?”

Artoria pressed her lips together.

“Well,” he drawled. “Did you have a good time?”

Artoria remembered having come in here for a very important purpose, but somehow her mind couldn’t fixate on anything but one revelation, something she had never even thought about until now, because it concerned people whose absence she had never really felt.

“You were the one who told my parents to fight Goetia,” she said. “They could have hidden like Merlin and me, but you told them not to. You wanted to bait him into fighting all of you, didn’t you?” 

“Oh? You aren't so dull after all. Are you asking me to explain myself to you?” he said coolly.

“No,” she said. “I heard, and I understand why you did so.” She marched right out of his office without another word.

He was petty, violent, incapable of being reasoned with, scornful and recklessly, fatally arrogant.

  
  


✷

“Merlin,” she said.

“Hm?” He didn’t look up, since he was engaged in the risky business of combing Fou's tail.

“I,” she hesitated, tapping her quill against her essay over and over. “I think Gilgamesh really does like you, in some way.”

“Oh,” Merlin said. “I know.” Fou raised a leg and he twitched back apprehensively, but it turned out Fou only wanted to scratch his ears. He relaxed.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, though,” she said. “You’ll just be trampled,” she said, remembering that unbelievably domineering “Go out with me” and that infuriating laugh.

“Oh?" Merlin said. "That sounds exciting.”

“And he might get you killed,” she said. 

He paused, and Fou jumped out of his lap. He sighed. “Would you like another slice of cake, Artoria?”

"No," she said.

✷

He ran away. When you asked him out. Why does he like you so much now.

She spent Transfiguration staring at Gilgamesh's face, trying to figure out the appeal and at the same time willing him to fall over.

He definitely noticed, but only arched an eyebrow and thereafter ignored her, just as he’d silently let her leave his office. Do you feel guilty at all? Do you even think about your mistakes?

“Artoria, that’s the fifth time you've lit your match,” said Bedivere.

“Ah.” She hurriedly blew it out and placed it in position on her desk, lifting her wand over it.

And then she slid back to staring at Gilgamesh, who at the moment was laughing at Cú, who’d lost control in his frustration and had accidentally set fire to his desk. Stamping ineffectually on his burning books, Cú yelled at him for standing around and not helping with a distinct lack of respect for elders, and he yelled right back, still laughing, with a distinct lack of professorial dignity.

He seemed a lot different when he was laughing like that. It wasn’t the same as when he’d laughed at Merlin. He wasn't genuinely angry at Cú and he didn't want anything from him, he seemed to just purely be having a good time, arguing with a child like he'd never matured himself. His face was almost pleasant, this time. And objectively speaking she guessed he did have a good face. Fine bone structure. Merlin wasn't wrong to say he was handsome. What’s the saying? Beautiful people have it easy? 

Beautiful… people….

The instant the gears clicked in her brain, her gut dropped like a chunk of iron.

“Artoria, your match!” 

Those unnaturally pretty scarlet eyes turned to her, full of mirth, as her desk burst into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I also wanted to see schooldays!Gil and Merlin ehehe)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short story about MerGil and property damage but things got out of hand  
> Special thanks to [gamesetmatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamesetmatch/pseuds/gamesetmatch) for the excellent, excellent suggestion of Arash.


End file.
